Hans' Fate
by Dragunov888
Summary: Hans has returned to his homeland. His father is at a loss. What do you do with a murderous, kingdom stealing son... that you love dearly. The Fate of Hans. Rated M for swearing and... other things.
1. Chapter 1- Homecoming

Hans resisted as the white uniformed guards dragged him down the castle hall. 2 weeks ago, these men would have saluted and bowed, for he was their prince. Now he was a stain on the Southern Isle's otherwise noble reputation. It was quite a spectacle as staff, guards and nobility alike lined the hall to see the disgraced prince, worst of all being his older brothers.

"Guards, halt." It was Johan, the 4th oldest. "Hello, King Hans of Arendelle" The older sibling said with a mocking smile. He proceeded to immediately force his fist into Han's stomach, causing intense pain.

"You little shit. Because of you, fur and timber costs in my Duchy has doubled, because you had to piss off the Snow Queen!" He finished with another punch, one that knocked the air out of him. "Guards, carry on." This was the third brother to do something similar. Since his downfall, the Southern Isles had a number of trade issues with Arendelle. While not maliciously jacking prices up, Queen Elsa had also not done much to discourage independent merchants from doing the same. As a result, many Arendellian merchants had equated Hans with his home kingdom, and punished them as a result.

The group continued down the hall, and Hans by this point had figured out where they were going. What terrified him was that they were not going to the dungeon, they were going to his father's study. None of the boys liked a visit to their father's study, as it almost always meant a spanking as toddlers, grounding and scolding as boys, and an ass chewing as teenagers and men. And that was for minor offenses. As he approached the study door, his oldest brother Alexander stood in the corner, pretending to read a book, in order to have an excuse to stand there.

Alexander, being the crown prince, had surely given and taken his fair share of brotherly beatings, but Alexander had figured out long ago that wits and sharp talk was far more effective in putting his brothers down, whether playfully for his liked brothers or more cruelly for the others. The sad thing was that Alexander had traditionally stuck up for the younger princes, not liking the middle brothers that endlessly tormented the younger and weaker boys.

So the simple stare of shame and disappointment from Alexander hurt far more than any of the beatings he had received today, with the calm but sharp phrase "Father is quite… _displeased, _little brother. And frankly _so am I." _sting like salt in his wounds. He closed the book and proceeded to walk by, leaving his youngest brother to his fate. Two guards who had been flanking the study door opened the door as the three moved through to the study.

Standing in the dimly lit room was his Father, King Frederick II. He had grey hair and sideburns, a gaunt face scared by wounds from the last Great War, and a white military uniform with decorations won on distant battlefields. He wore gloves as he was self-conscious of his wooden left forearm, which had been a necessary sacrifice to save his life from an infection caused by a musket round. The boys had learned about it, as it was their father's favorite way to correct them when they misused the word "sacrifice" around him.

His back was turned when they entered the room, and he did not turn when he began to speak.

"Guards, leave us." That was never a good sign. King Frederick may have let guards witness a scolding, but if the guards were ordered to leave, it meant at least a 30 minute ass chewing or beating.

"Did you know, King Agdar and I was at the Battle of the Black Forest together?" He asked rhetorically. Hans knew better than to answer yes or no, he had been through this before. "Southern Island men and Arendellian troops went toe to toe with Austrian Grenadiers. We were boys then, younger than you." He paused, finally turning to see his son. "No matter what happened, we stood by each other. When the Prussians finally arrived and repelled the attack, they could not believe we stood our ground with the losses we took." He began to slowly walk up to his son. "We stood… _together. _We were the descendants of the Vikings, and we dared not to retreat and leave our brothers to die. He was my best man at my wedding, and I was his." The King quietly extended the fingers on his wooden hand.

"He was a brother to me." Without warning and with a speed that was unexpected from a man as old as he, he wailed Hans face with the wooden hand, with a sharp crack.

"A relationship built with the blood, sweat and tears of our countrymen, a _trust _whose foundation lies on a graveyard in Germany, was just destroyed by you." Another smack.

Hand was crying, with a bruise already forming. "I…"

The King finally exploded. "NO!" With his face red with anger and his right hand pointing deadly jabs at his son's face. "I WOULD HAVE DONE ANYTHING FOR THAT MAN AND HIS FAMILY! ANYTHING!" This time it wasn't a slap, but a wooden fist. "A QUEEN THAT IS MY GODDAUGHTER, AND I HAD TO SCRAPE, AND BEG TO EVEN MAINTAIN DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS!" Another fist.

Frederick paused, calming down, and ceasing to shout. "Family, blood or otherwise is everything Hans. I lost that family because of you." Hans openly sobbing openly with blood running from an open cut caused from his father's wooden fist. "You never give up on family."

Unexpectedly, his Father embraced his youngest son, barely containing his tears. "God boy, I thought I lost you." His right hand brushing through his son's copper hair, he squeezed hard. "I thought they were going to kill you." The King paused, removing himself from his son. The cold, calm father had returned.

"And they had _every right _to do so." He returned his hands to behind his back. "When that messenger bird arrived, I cut you off. I told them that you had acted on your own, and that if they pursued justice, The Southern Isle's would not retaliate in any way. I did say I'd rather if you faced our justice."

"What will happen to me?" Hans said, tentatively. He usually dared not interrupt his father's scolding, but he _had _to know his fate.

His father paused for but a few seconds, but to Hans it lasted minutes. "I don't know son. You are my boy, even if you have destroyed our relations with Arendelle. But you will be dealt with." With barely any emotion, he simply stated "Guards." Two soldiers entered the door, snapping to attention.

"Take Hans to the dungeon while I decide what to do."

"Yes Sir."

Whereas before he had fought out of spite, Hans let himself be dragged as his spirit had been crushed. His father had always been one for titles, and as such, he _always _used them when they applied. Even as children, he had always called his sons Prince. For him to refer to him as Hans instead of Prince Hans was no mistake. He may have not done it officially, but he had just disowned his youngest son.

…

It was a week before the door to the cell finally opened, revealing several Guardsmen with manacles.

"You are coming with us, Hans."

"Where too?"

The Guard smiled cruelly. A peasant born, he respected the pay and status, not the royal family. "A Bath and meal."

Hans recoiled in horror. According to their law a prisoner always was bathed and fed a decent last meal before… execution. He knew his father loved him, but his father had always stressed consequences. He knew his father would execute him if he felt he deserved it.

"No, NO!" Hans screamed as the soldiers grabbed the former prince and dragged him out of the cell.

…

He had fought the bath, but by the time his meal was served, consisting of his favorite foods and sandwiches, he at least partook in the food. He only had to be offered the food. Any refusal would merely quicken his demise. As he finished, the Guards dragged him to his feet and led him to the hall. While being escorted, he glanced out the window into the castle courtyard. A major military installation, soldiers drilled and trained in the courtyard. As he scanned, a sight filled him with terror. A platform stood, as it had always stood, except now it had a single noose dangling from the support beam, with an executioner standing by.

"No, No! NO! NO!" Hans screamed and fought as his mechanism of death filled him with terror, causing the Guards to resume dragging the kicking and screaming prince. "NOT LIKE THIS!"

The Guards led him to the main entrance, where he continued to fight, as Hans was terrified of the concept of hanging. They opened the door, where Hans' struggling and sudden burst of natural sunlight caused Hans to not see his father and the small group gathered to meet him.

"Well, _that's_ attractive."

Hans paused. He knew his father of course, as well as his older brother Josef, but the women who just sarcastically mocked him he had never seen before, even though she was dressed as a noblewoman.

The guards let go, causing Hans to be utterly confused. This is not how executions worked.

"I don't understand…" Josef chuckled, leading even his father to join his younger brother in confusion. Preempting his father's eventually inquiry, He began to explain.

"Your Majesty, I may have given the Guards _slightly _different orders than what you ordered me."  
>The King understood at once. "You ordered them to prepare him for execution."<p>

Josef began to burst out laughing. He had always been that way. The second youngest, Josef like Hans had not inherited any land, instead he entered full course into the army, leading to his current post as Captain of the Guard. Tall, well built, and with a normally grave and serious face to match his decorated white officer uniform, all of which betrayed his true nature. After many a lost fight, Josef figured out the best way to get back at his brothers was practical jokes and ploys. A born trickster, with the pranks leading to vastly disproportionate losses compared to the beating, the older brothers stopped messing with him. Not that the minor pranks stopped of course.

Recovering from the laughing fit, he regained his composure, and bowed to his father. "Your majesty, if you'll excuse me?" The King, while not a fan of Josef's jokes, could hardly be upset considering the massive military implications and setbacks Josef had to deal with due to strained relations with Arendelle. "Granted, Major." Josef returned to attention, clicked his heels together, before turning about and walking off while placing his cap back onto his red haired head, letting out another chuckle.

"So, you are wondering why you are here. I'll clarify that now." He turned and gestured to the woman. She wore a simple navy blue dress with white facings, with a face that was hardly memorable. Her hair was brown, done up into a simple plain bun. She carried a pair of books that she grasped with white silk gloves. And she had a nervous but dismissive expression on her plain face.

"Hans, meet Lady Johanna of Kurzheim."

Kurzheim was the smallest Island in the kingdom, only ruled by a lord. It had a few thousand people, a small port and a few local cottage industries. Isolated, it was too easy for the Lord and Lady of the Island to rarely visit the capital, which would explain how he had never seen Lady Johanna before, but what did she have to do with anything?

"Hans, I have figured out what to do with you. First and foremost, I have decreed that you are no longer in the line of succession, but your future sons and daughters are. Second, you are now forbidden to ever leave the Southern Isle's without my express permission."_ So far, so good, but that doesn't explain…_

"And lastly, you are to marry Lady Johanna. As her father has sadly passed away, a man that I owe a debt to. I told him I would find a match for his daughter. As such, he will be the grandfather of Princes and possibly Kings."

Hans shuddered. Kurzheim was poor, dirty, and cold. Its garrison was considered a penal unit for minor offenses, and it struggled to maintain a profit for the Kingdom. It was the perfect place to send someone to ensure they didn't cause any more trouble. It was only a step above exile.

"Naturally, you are not to leave unless summoned to the Capital, which I will tell you right now boy, will not be very often." King Frederick walked up and patted his son on the shoulder, before smiling devilishly. "What's wrong son, it's a happy day- you're getting married in a week!"


	2. Chapter 2- A Happy Day

Arendelle Docks

"Must you _really _go?" Anna whined for the twentieth time today as Elsa strode down the dock, accompanied by her Guards.

Elsa sighed, starting to become quite irritated. "Yes, Anna. I have to do this." As annoyed as her sister's pestering was, Elsa hardly blamed her sister for her anxiety, for several reasons. First, boat travel and this family did not historically end well. Second, Anna was expected to assume the royal duties while she was gone. And third, easily the biggest reason, Elsa was visiting the _Southern Isles_ of all places.

"But why?"

"Because this is my fault." Perhaps not the best words to say.

"Excuse me? Hans attempts to murder both of us and steal our kingdom, and it's YOUR fault?"

Elsa paused, trying to word the situation in the best way. "Yes, Hans was a bastard. But, the Southern Isles swore they had nothing to do with it, and yet I acted in anger. I made King Frederick beg for normal relations, which embarrassed him greatly." Anna looked at Elsa in confusion, not grasping the importance of the situation.

"Look, many people here in Arendelle still equate The Southern Isles with Hans, and have been increasing prices or not doing business with them at all. The best way to assure them and stabilize relations is for me to go to Southern Isles on a goodwill tour." Anna, started to grasp the situation but still lacked the vital information Elsa did.

"But why? We have other trade partners than Weselton and the Southern Isles. Why do we need to?"

Elsa sighed, finally deciding to tell her the truth. "For Papa's sake."

Anna grew pale with a shocked expression. "What?"

"You were too young to remember, and for the most part so was I. But our father and King Frederick were very close when they were younger, to the point that he is my godfather. I forgot that shortly after the Great Thaw. I owe it to Papa to stabilize relations"

Anna nodded, understanding before snapping back into irritated and defensive mode. "But what if it's dangerous? It could be a trap. If only one of his brothers is like him, it could be fatal!"

Elsa smiled, placing her hand on her shoulder to reassure her sister. "Don't worry, I would not have left without a sizable armed escort, which King Frederick has graciously permitted to take, understanding my caution."

Anna was still skeptical, but finally nodded, give her sister her blessing to undertake the voyage. She light up again, impulsively making a decision. "But I'm coming too!"

Elsa recoiled, stunned. "What? No!" She unclasped her hands, breaking her calm demeanor and beginning to raise her voice and gesture at her sister. "I need you HERE, to help the Prime Minister."

"Nah, he'd be happier and less stressed without me here. I need to keep you company and out of the drama place!" Elsa paused realizing that she was right in both counts, not sure how to respond.

Anna laughed, slapping Elsa on the shoulder. "Come on, It'll be an adventure!" Elsa sighed, signaling a Guard to run a message to inform the Ministers. _I hope so Anna, I do hope so._

…

Kesselburg, the Southern Isles

"Presenting Queen Elsa, of Arendelle!" The horns sounded as Elsa gracefully was led off the boat by her Guards. Everything about today was a statement planned days in advance. Her Guards were wearing the newest issue uniform, a drab green wool uniform, following many European armies of beginning to discard bright uniforms for duller and easier to produce uniforms. In addition the cumbersome Shako had been replaced with soft service caps.

They also carried new revolvers and slung Dreyse Needle rifles to symbolize Queen Elsa investing heavily on a stronger, modernized Arendelle Army. With these weapons and modern cartridge pouches and belts, they certainly looked cutting edge.

Even Elsa had carefully planned out her outfit. She left her ice dress behind and wore a concealing dress bearing her nation's colors of purple and green. She also wore her gloves. It wasn't that she did not have control over her powers, it was a simply a show. Looks mattered today, and while Elsa hated the damn things, she had to appear as non-hostile as possible.

She also wore her crown, another item she preferred to go without, but wore for the sake of appearances. Waiting for her was King Frederick and Major Josef, Captain of the Guard. Both bowed as she stepped of the gang plank.

"Your Majesty, welcome to the Southern Isles." He gestured down the dock, leading towards the castle. Queen Elsa nodded, and proceeded to follow the two down the dock. Before they could begin to converse, a shouted "Wait for Me!" startled the two men, but hardly fazed the Queen. It was Anna, sprinting down the dock, up to her sister before settling next to her sister, fidgeting as she recognized the older man as the King.

The King was puzzled. "Princess Anna? I did not expect you to come as well. I specifically did not send you an invitation due to… _past events_."

"Well, I go where my sister goes." Anna said, a matter of factly but awkwardly. "So what are we doing while we're here?"

"Well, we planned a quick ceremony with reporters and the new cameras. After that there is a wedding along with the reception. We do not wish to keep Queen Elsa here too long away from her duties, so the third day is a day of rest, with a ship ready to take her home that evening."

Queen Elsa nodded. "I get the feeling that you want me gone as soon as possible."

King Frederick smiled. _Agdar didn't raise a fool. _"To be honest Queen Elsa, you are not the only one that finds this awkward. I still remember you as the girl I bounced on my knee. And now I have to beg you for forgiveness."

Elsa nodded as they continued to stroll down the walkway. "I should have remembered those days in the immediate aftermath of the Great Thaw. I admit mistakes were made."

"Cleary, Queen Elsa. Just as I made a mistake as to what son to represent me at your coronation."

Anna was bored. As far a she could tell, it was just two people sucking up to each other. She rolled her eyes and prepared to speak, before Elsa sent her a chilling glare. Leaning in she whispered "This is diplomacy, just stay quiet, and let me do the talking."

Anna rolled her eyes again. Maybe she _should_ have stayed back in Arendelle.

…

The first day had gone smoothly, the only hiccup being the photographs. While Elsa had had a photo taken of her at the Coronation, she had expected and braced for it. At the ceremony she had not expected the flash and small explosion as each of the series of cameras had gone off. It turns out it was a good thing she was wearing the gloves, or she might have given King Frederick frostbite.

Other than that it was a simple ceremony. A new treaty was signed, helping bring relations hopefully back to normal, and the amount of reporters would hopefully mean that the merchants of Arendelle would stop setting unfair prices for exports. There was a banquet, which security was tricky. The Guard Sergeant in charge of the detail, (Ironically named Hans) had insisted that her servants cook Queen Elsa's food. This didn't sit well with either the Chef or Major Josef. A compromise was struck where a guard would monitor the cooks and the Queen and King would share the same cooks. To avoid further trouble, Elsa simply conjured Ice water instead of wine.

Afterwards, to demonstrate trust in their Arendelle allies, King Frederick asked her to demonstrate her ice powers. Nervous, Elsa only performed a few simple tricks, afraid that a major stunt might backfire or harm someone. Luckily, Anna was there to back up Elsa and reassure her.

One thing that no-one did, not even Anna, was talk or ask about the Elephant in the room- Prince Hans. He was not mentioned by any of the royal family. Six brothers were there, and another two mentioned, but the King simply explained that the "other brothers", not even given a number at five, were "away." Considering the damage he had caused, it appeared to Elsa that everyone wanted to forget about Hans.

Elsa slumped as she entered the room, removing her gloves and tiara and falling down on the bed to remove her heels. She had to wait for 30 minutes outside the door as the Guards "cleared" her room of danger, and then attempted to tidy up. In terms of the latter, well… there's a reason Guards don't double as servants. It was neat, but many of the things there out of place, overly straightened or oddly organized. The room was ready for a Sergeant's inspection, not a Queen.

Since Servants had brought their luggage up early, that too was inspected, so when Elsa attempted to open her suitcase for a nightgown, all she found was a series of neatly rolled clothing articles. Socks, Underwear, Gowns, dresses, gloves, everything was an identical roll.

Elsa sighed. _I'll need to establish a new security protocol when I return to Arendelle. _Before she could begin to undress the door flew open, as Anna bound into the room and Leaped onto the bed. The bounce promptly lifted Elsa into the air and caused her luggage to spill onto the floor. Luckily, her security had swept before leaving or her clothing would have dirt, dust, and boot polish on it.

Anna laughed as she sat up, looking around the room. "Where's my bed?"

"You're sitting on it."

"Where's _your bed." _Anna asked, already knowing the answer.

Queen Elsa sighed. "You're sitting on it."

"WHAT?!"

"They only prepared one bedroom for us because they only knew that I was coming. And they were not able to get another on such short notice due to the stupid wedding. Half of the Southern Isle's is here."

"But Elsa, we never shared beds for a reason! You're cold as ice when you fall asleep!"

"It's too late now, besides, we don't have enough Guardsmen to guard two rooms. They have 2 hour shifts throughout the night as is."

"Ugghh." Anna fell back onto the bed. _And I didn't pack winter wear._

…

Elsa and Anna shuffled down the pew, mere minutes before the ceremony was to start. As a sign of goodwill, they were seated next to King. Once again, he had no issue with Queen Elsa taking precaution. Sergeant Hans and three others were inside, unarmed of course as it was a church, on look out. Elsa was not too terribly worried as all she had to do was take off her gloves and she would be armed, they were simply looking out for trouble. The other six were outside, armed and in pairs at the entrances, paired with their counterparts from the Southern Isles.

As they sat down, they were greeted by the King. Preempting the eventual question, Queen Elsa apologized. "I'm sorry King Frederick, but we took longer to get ready that expected." She whispered out as she shot a glare at Anna.

"What?" Anna whispered defensively.

"It's _your_ fault we're late."

"I wouldn't have needed so much time to get ready if I wasn't wearing 3 layers of clothes in bed!"

"Quiet!" This time is was the King. Diplomacy or no Diplomacy, he did not suffer childish bickering.

As they settled in the wooden seats, Anna looked up at the altar. Nobody had arrived yet except the priest.

"Elsa, who's getting married again?"

"Let me check." she pulled out a program. "Huh. The Lord of Kurzheim, Lord Hans."

"_What!"_

"Relax, Hans is a common name here. And that Hans was a Prince. There is no way Hans was the Lord of a backwater like-"

At that moment a number of Southern Isle's soldiers came in through the main entrance, quickly marching to the altar, taking the place of the best men. One was an actual officer, the rest were common soldiers.

_That's strange. Why would-_

Then a face that neither would ever have wanted to see again, came strolling down the aisle, accompanied by two guards. Elsa's heart froze as Prince Hans, of the Southern Isles took the place of the groom. Elsa could feel the inside of her gloves freeze to ice, as she began to have a panic attack. A flashback of a broken Queen on the ice, sobbing, as a merciless sword came down to end her life.

Anna did her best to calm her down, while attempting to get through her own panic attack. A study with all the lights and fires being extinguished, a cold room, with a cold man with an even colder plan of murder and succession. A love extinguished as surely as the candles and fireplace.

In between breaths, Elsa demanded information. "What… is… _HE… _doing here!"

King Frederick placed his hand on her shoulder, uncaring as his wooden hand turned to ice. "I _assure you, _Queen Elsa, I will explain _everything _in time. Just relax and enjoy the wedding."

Trusting the King, she tried to relax, but every time she looked up through the ceremony, she could only see the gaze of hatred emanating from the Princes' eyes.

…

As soon as the carriage began to roll, both sisters began to demand answers from the King, however Anna was the one he heard.

"What is Hans doing here!? You said you dealt with him, you said he was punished!"

King Frederick shouted for the first time since the two arrived. "ENOUGH!" He paused, returning to a quiet but stern voice. "I _did_ deal with him, and he _has_ been punished"

"How is being made a Lord and given lands a punishment?" Anna demanded to know as Anna tried to reign her sister in.

"Tell me Princess Anna, have you ever head of Kurzheim?"

Anna stopped, thinking back of all the geography lessons she slept through. "No, but I bet Elsa could tell you all about it!"

Elsa placed her hand of Anna's forearm, a subtle message to let her handle this. "Actually, Anna, I only remember Kurzheim as a footnote in the geography of the Southern Isles. I never knew it was its own lordship." The admittance of a lack of knowledge on Elsa's part baffled Anna. Elsa _never _slept or day dreamed in class…

"Exactly. With 5000 people and 3 villages, a small fishing and wool industry, and poor weather conditions and its remoteness, Kurzheim is hardly a place anyone wants to go."

"I see, but why give him a lordship, even a remote one, instead of a prison cell?" Elsa asked, as politely as possible.

"Well, for several reasons. First and foremost, he is my son, no matter what's he's done. And what is it you said about family last night?"

Anna sighed. "You never give up on family."

"Exactly. Second, I know my son." The comment caused him to receive cold stares from the two ladies. "Well, somewhat. The point is, my son craves respect and attention, more than anything. No matter who it is, he has to be respected."

"So?"

"Think about the… incident. How did Hans handle himself when he effectively ran Arendelle for a day?"

Elsa nodded, beginning to see the King's angle, while Anna scoffed. Elsa admitted "According to the dignitaries and ministers, he actually ran Arendelle with efficiency."

"Yes, he did. Even to remote farmers and fishermen, he _has _to be respected. He will not slack or neglect his duties, he may even actually put Kurzheim on the map. In addition, I have taken… steps to ensure Hans never does something like this again."

"How so?"

"First, he is forbidden from leaving the Southern Isles without my explicit permission. Second He is forbidden from travelling to the capital without my permission. Both the Royal Navy and Merchant Marine have been informed of this. Third, I have marked him as incapable of inheritance."

"How does that work? Wouldn't that make him worthless to marry?" Anna asked what Elsa thought.

"Any children would still be grandchildren of the King. I have clarified to the Royal Genealogist that only Hans is incapable of succession, any children will be treated as any other grandchild will."

Elsa nodded her head in agreement. "I see, make him marriable, but incapable of murdering his way to the top."

"Fourth, I have a… shall we say… trusted man on the ground to keep an eye on things. A man that for various reasons can never be bought or blackmailed by Hans to serve him. Whose whole job is to watch Hans, and report it to me. Any mischief, and it will be the noose this time."

Elsa and Anna shuddered. A chilling thought. Elsa however, quickly had another thought.

"King Frederick, I have to ask, why the public wedding?" It was a loaded question. But King Frederick grasped the full weight of it.

"Ah, Yes. Well, I do not believe in hiding from judgment. Yes, many, including you disagree with my admittedly lenient treatment of my son, even though he is an attempted murderer. I will not hide my actions however. I ensured that the whole of the Southern Isle's know I spared my son. That is my burden to bear. I will also justify it as I believe it's best for the Kingdom to keep him alive. I see Kurzheim as a prison of its own. A prison of Isolation, responsibility and burden. And I know my son. This is a challenge, from me, and since it's his Duchy, his older brother Alexander." He paused as the Carriage arrived at the reception banquet. A Southern Isle soldier opened the door, saluting in anticipation for the King's exit from the carriage.

"And if there's one thing I know my son craves more than anything, even power- It's the respect of myself and his oldest brother."

…

"Let it Go, Hans."

Hans gave his best, and now, only friend in the world a glare. It was his best man, Lieutenant Colonel Oleg Schwarzkopf. As Hans was given a command in the military as was customary for all princes, he served with him during the last minor war. Neither really saw action, but it was a bonding experience. At least, for Oleg. Like just about everyone else, Hans considered Oleg expendable. At least he used to.

Friendless, out casted, and disgraced, a man so loyal to still honor that friendship, well you don't throw that away. Oleg was like a faithful hound in that way. To the point he personally wrote the King to ask to serve as commander of the Kurzheim garrison, when he had just been offered a more prestigious command.

"Seriously, you lost. Hating the Snow Queen and being bitter at the world won't solve anything." Oleg may be loyal, but he was brutally honest. He didn't know it yet, but this would be a treasured quality in the coming years for Hans.

"My own father, would rather sit with… _that witch_, than with me."

Oleg sipped wine. "He has to. Diplomacy, and all that shit. Plus let's face it, he owes the Ice Queen."

"How?"

"She could have sent a piece of you to each of your twelve brothers. I would have if I was her."

"I don't understand you Oleg. Why are here, with me?"

Oleg stopped to think, before answering. "Because, even if you are a little shit, who tried to murder two young women in colder blood than the Ice Queen, I am still your loyal friend. Through thick and thin. You stood by me then, I'll stand with you now, even if I never see full Colonel."

Hans stopped to look at his "Friend." Of average build, Oleg was by no means handsome. He had crooked teeth, a number of scars and dirty black hair on his head and his trimmed beard. His eyes were a muddy brown that reminded Hans of a dog's. The only reason he made it this far, was that a younger Hans gave his father a good report on him when he was a naval officer, and Oleg had never forgotten that.

Han's returned his attention to the reception. Unlike normal, two separate tables of honor had been set up. One for the "happy couple" where himself, Oleg, his wife, and her bridesmaids all sat. The other sat the King, some of his brothers, and the guests of honor- The Queen and Crown Prince of Arendelle. This was a wedding reception in name only. He had been told by Oleg that there was to be no toasts regarding Hans, or the "happy couple" in general. There would be a first dance and the tossing of the bouquet, but that was about it. This reception was far more about his father and the Queen of Arendelle than him. More of them being seen together, more handshakes, maybe even a dance together. All to paint a pretty picture of peace.

Such horse shit. If he had succeeded, and his family found out the lengths he went to get that crown without it going public, his father, Alexander, maybe a few others would have cared. Most of them didn't give a damn about Elsa and Anna. They were just upset because increased fur prices, or more paperwork involved in Arendelle threat assessments. They hated him because they looked bad. Only Father and Alexander cared about the friendship of a dead man, King Agdar.

…

It was the first dance, and the first time they had done anything intimate. During the ceremony the "You may kiss the bride" was dropped, as everyone knew it was a political marriage. They had touched the first time to exchange rings, and that was it. Hans however, was a charmer. He would win her over.

Putting on a similar smile to the time he met naïve Anna, he greeted her. "My Lady."

She smiled back. "Shut up."

"Excuse me?"

"I didn't walk into this blindly. I know about Arendelle, I know about Princess Anna. I know you."

"Well that's not fair, you know so much about me, and I know so little about you, my Lady."

"I don't care. You serve one purpose to me. You put your seed in my womb, so If play my cards right, I could be the Queen Mother. There is no love between us."

The song ended, and the tow returned to their seats. Lady Johanna unflinchingly tucked herself back in and returned to small talk with her Maid of Honor. Hans sat down, uneasy over his previous conversation. To his left, Oleg chuckled. "I guess your father is a better matchmaker than I thought!"

"What are you talking about?"

"She's just like you. Determined, Calculating, power hungry and cold. You could even say she…"

"Don't you fucking say it Oleg."

"Has a Frozen Heart, like you!"

Hans let his head fall onto his open palm. If there was one thing he despised about Oleg, it was that the man loved puns way too damned much. Ever since Oleg had paroled him days before, it had been one cold related pun after another. "Are you sure you don't have cold feet? Don't give me the cold shoulder. You're lucky they didn't give you the cold steel." He was sick of it.

It was going to be a long exile.

…

A bit of notes.

Dear god that was a lot of talking. Pretty much I wrote this chapter to explain and clarify exactly why King Frederick II did what he did, instead of doing what seems to be everyone else's two choices- Jail/execute Han's, or send him to be a servant or aid to Arendelle. This is not a Helsa. Period. Ever. On that note, get ready to say goodbye to Queen Elsa and Princess Anna. You are not going to see them for quite a while. The next many chapters are going to be exactly what I advertised. Hans on an Island, trying to turn it around. No wacky adventures, no evil schemes to murder them, nothing. While Hans still hates them he needs a foundation to stand on first. What'll happen if/when he gets that foundation, well, we'll find out…


	3. Chapter 3- Landfall

Kurzheim, the Southern Isles.

Hans stepped off the small ship onto the dock, before stopping to take it all in. Kurzheim. The docks where small, sad, and in ill repair. The sky was grey, the air chill and wet. What dirt he could see was grey and full of clay, with only weeds and marsh plants growing here and there. The small fleet of fishing ships, while tough, were clearly old, meaning the fishermen had prolonged their life well past what they should have. In short, everything he had heard about Kurzheim, was true.

A crashing sound caused his hairs to stand on end, as he turned as saw the porters knock one of his chests over, dangerously close to the water.

"Be careful with that you fool!" Hans was greedy, but he was practical. If it was his clothes, he could have cared less, but that chest was one of a number that included Hans' capital. Since he was a boy, Hans had invested and saved heavily, pouring much of his Princely allowance into various ventures and saving accounts. Amazingly, these accounts where not frozen or seized. As a result, when Hans left for Kurzheim, he brought some of it with him. Hans was cautious, and did not bring it all in one trip for fear of ship wreck or piracy.

Hans understood economics and capitalism very well, he was not one to stockpile cash and gold to merely look at it. He was going to need every_ krone _to invest in and upgrade the island. Not that he was a philanthropist. Put enough money into the island, find _something _of value and churn it out, make money, and as a result, get money back. Maybe even make more than he had. He just had to find… _something. Anything._

The Porters lifted the chest back onto the cart, and continued up the dock. They had been briefed on what to do. Take all the luggage to the manor. Easy as pie. Always cautious, Hans accompanied them to the manor. The manor, his future home was to be the heart of his new little empire. The first changes and reforms would be there, then circulate to the far corners of the island.

…

To call it a manor was a crime. It was a throwback to an earlier era, when an armored knight in chainmail was cutting edge. The small stone keep was surrounded by a stone wall, built to keep thieves and animals out, not armies. A few outbuildings had been built as time went on, but these were simple brick and wood buildings, built for cost, not for appearance. The manor's animals wandered about freely, and one had to be careful where he stepped.

_Time to get to work._

He directed the porters to leave the chests inside the keep's main hall, as he walked carefully towards the kitchen. Built as annex to the Keep, it was where the first changes were to be made. He had directed his steward to prepare all staff for inspection, so they were waiting for him.

He opened the door, causing a number of cooks and kitchen staff to scramble from minor tasks and chairs to a single rank. Like soldiers waiting for an inspection, they stood at attention- silent, unmoving, and not daring to do anything that might draw attention. They all knew what was coming. A purge. New lords always like trimming staff, and the maids and servants were the first to go.

Hans eyed his new kitchen staff. Ordered in seniority, the first on his left was the head chef. Unlike most of the others, he was calmed and relaxed. A large round Frenchman, he had been brought in by the last Lord to cook delicacies and fine foods. Just one way to make life here a bit more bearable.

"What's your name good sir?" Hans asked with a calm, polite expression. He already knew the answer.

"Gaston, my lord."

"What qualifications do you have to run my kitchen, Chef?"

"My Lord, I have served in kitchens across Europe, including Versailles. I was trained by the finest chefs in Europe. I can make food fit for kings."

"What's your salary, good chef?"

"2500 Krone a month. A great deal for someone of my talent."

_That explains why the kitchen expenses were so high. _"I see. You're fired." Without pausing, he walked down to the next man, a thin gaunt man. He had blond hair and light blue eyes that had seen more than most in his profession.

"What's your name?"

"Sous Chef Hauser, my lord." He had a clear, grave German accent.

"What's your qualifications?"

"Only an incomplete culinary education and years of working here, my lord."

"What's the story behind that, Hauser?"

The German tugged at his collar, sweating profusely. Good, he wasn't arrogant. The man feared for his job.

"My lord, when I was in school, a revolution broke out in my state. Being a young, stupid boy, I joined the revolt. It failed. I had to flee Germany to avoid the hangman. I ended up here."

"What's your salary?"

"750 Krone a month."

"I see. You're the new chef. You'll be informed of your raise within a week." He left the visibly relieved German, to walk up and down kitchen.

"You all know who I am. You all know what I did. Know one thing, and know it well." He paused, smiling. "My favorite food is sandwiches. I don't need a large staff. I have no problem firing all of you. Show me a reason to keep you."

Without waiting for a response, he strode out of the room, smiling. He may not be the King, but he was the certainly King of his island.

…

Hans closed the door behind him, taking off his jacket before kicking his boots off. It had been a long day, first inspecting his entire staff and then reviewing finances. 11 people had been fired today, and judging by the expense report, 4 more would have to be fired within the next month. For that he intended to use his heads of staff to trim incompetence from their teams. It had been productive. He thought about the purge, and the new leadership.

Of course he remembered Chef Richard Hauser. He had learned later that the cook had a wife and children, hence his commitment to his job. He had heard a tale from the other staff of a hard-working man who worked his way up from kitchen boy to Sous Chef. More importantly, he could always threaten to ship him back to Germany with a tip as to who he was. He could easily be threatened. He very well might do.

Second was Klara. The head of servants, the elderly woman had served the Lords of Kurzheim since she was a little girl. No one knew the keep like her. She was useful as many of her former masters had risen to higher posts since that point. And she knew their secrets, dirty and clean. For the right price, Klara would be glad to tell her new Lord what she knew. Whether for Blackmail or to be the perfect Host, Klara was invaluable.

Third was Rolf. Replacing the previous chief groundskeeper, Hans knew little about the large mysterious man. It was his job to correct the sorry state of repairs in the estate, as well as manage the Garden, Stable and Tool Shop. He saw no reason to get rid of Rolf, but no reason to keep him on. He'd see how he do.

Most important was his Steward, Wagner. Hans had relied on the man a long time. Ruthless, cold, brilliant and most importantly of all, Loyal. The Steward was the right hand man of any ruler, the man who ensured things got done. Wagner was a mercenary that Hans had hired back in his teens, initially as his bodyguard. As time went on, Hans gave him increased responsibilities, as he noticed he was quite intelligent for a man of his education, leading the Prince to take him under his wing.

He had done well and had proven to be competent and loyal. As such, a Stewardship was his appointment. Wagner was short but strong, with Black hair and would have had a common unremarkable face, if not for the facial scars common in his profession. He kept a cleanly shaven appearance, and had gladly taken to wearing fine suits, after years of wearing the rags of a mercenary.

Hans slid into bed, attempting to drift off into sleep. But as always, he couldn't. His mind wandered back to that snowy summer day.

_Oh Anna, if only there was someone out there that loved you…_

Such stupidity. If only he had not bragged.

…

Fritz stood at attention as the Corporals made their way up and down the line with their batons, "Correcting" deficiencies as they saw fit. He was corrected moments earlier with a crack of the baton as his gut stuck out too much. This was the way of the armies of Europe. Discipline was everything, and with no fear there was no discipline.

He wore the "white" uniform of his country, the Southern Isle, although to be fair, it was more similar in color to a coffee stain. Like all other men here, he was conscripted during the last mass draft. Unlike most here, he was actually from Kurzheim. Most of his comrades where recruited from stockades and military prisons, as Kurzheim was a "Safe" place to put undesirable soldiers.

Still in initial training, Fritz was under much more considerate lock down and training. They were due to be issued their rifles today, a considerable step towards being considered true soldiers. Initial training was rather short, as the leadership felt that it was a waste of time to drill the soldiers too much as they were unlikely to see combat.

"Kompanie! Ach-tung!" It was their drill instructor, Sergeant Wulfhart. He had been brutal on them, but was a fair man. A Prussian Veteran of the previous war, he felt it was his duty to prepare the men as much as possible. He had ended up here after a baton cracked the jaw of a Lord's son on another Island.

"You vorthless arshloches are to be inspected by ze Lord today. If you embarrass your country, your uniform, or vurs of all embarrass me, I vill beat you to death!" He made his way down the line, looking for yet more deficiencies. Unlike the first day, he only had to stop every few men. "EYES FRONT!" Crack. "GUT IN!" A thrust with the baton. "FEET TOGETHER!" A kick to the shin. He came up to Fritz, who overly exaggerated the act of sucking his gut in. The Prussian paused, smiling. "_Now _ve're learning_, kinder!"_

"You vill be presented before Lord Hans, so you vill receive your muskets. Afterwards, I vill drill you filth so you are ready to be seen by Lord Hans. RIGHT FACE! Vorwärts Marsch!"

…

Lord Hans watched as his Battalion Passed in Review. It was a mixed affair. Most were sloppily trained in drill, and it showed here. Men out of step, incorrect uniforms, and other tell-tale signs of a crappy army. All except for the training platoon. Those men made minor mistakes, but marched past with a discipline unseen in the other formations. Led by a German Sergeant still wearing the Prussian blue, they marched by, in step and in steady ranks.

Hans turned to Oleg. "Why are the new recruits marching better than the line companies?"

"Well, firstly the line companies hardly drill. Secondly, the Sergeant leading the Training platoon is a new arrival. Broke the Lord of Eifelheim's son's jaw because he wasn't at proper attention."

Hans chuckled. "Well, whatever he's doing, it's working. I'd make changes to the garrison, but I need a strong economy before I can make a strong army. Keep him where he's at. Start making assessments Oleg. When the time comes, I need to know who to keep."

"Of course, my lord."

…

"Good Job _kinder, _keep it up and I vill make _soldat _out of you yet!"

The group smiled, appreciating the minor complement from the man. As much as they feared and hated him initially, they had come to respect the Sergeant and craved to impress the man. The Sergeant had a small smirk on his face, clearly pleased with his men.

"You march better zan any of ze other filth on zat parade square. Zat's damn good." His smile faded and returned to his trademark scowl. "But still Prussian _Landwehr _march better zan you dumkopfs! Tomorrow I vill drill you until your feet bleed! Dismissed!"

Fritz fell out, smiling. For all his threats, their Sergeant had never released the men this early in the day. Like any good Drill Sergeant, he had to be threatening until the end. Slowly but surely, Wulfhart was beginning to respect them.

…

The Lord and Lady of Kurzheim ate in silence for yet another meal, both frustrated by their own prides. Lady Kurzheim while committed to the idea of conceiving a child, she was less thrilled by its… execution. She had expected Hans to bed her already and be done with it. It would be loveless, but it would get her pregnant. Instead, Hans hadn't as much as given her a kiss.

For his own part, Hans was stubborn. Despite his cold blooded nature, Hans was a little skittish at the idea of sealing his marriage vows. He was uneasy with the idea of making love to a woman who didn't love him. To be honest, he was a little nervous at the idea altogether. Hans was still a virgin, as he had figured he could worry about bedding a wife or mistress when he was King. As he had wooed Princess Anna, she had foolhardy love for him. She would forgive a poor performance on their wedding night. Lady Johanna would certainly mock and ridicule him.

And that was Hans' great weakness. He had to be respected. If he did poorly, it'd be shameful, and how could he be ashamed in front of his wife? He had to calculate everything, to plan everything. And one could not plan or prepare for his wedding night. And thus, it terrified him.

He cursed himself. He had to brag, he had to smugly reveal his whole damned plan to Anna. Now granted the frozen heart was a setback for his plan, but in hindsight he could have made it work. He could have admitted that he did not feel true love, but that he believed in time his "crush" would develop into true love. It might have worked. If not, he wouldn't be on this shit hole of an island. He could have started again, somewhere else.

That's all he could do during quiet moments, was think of how he could have done things different. Hell, his original plan of arranging an accident for Queen Elsa was unnecessary. Given her isolation, he would have likely have become Regent for an absent Queen. But of course his plan went to shit. And here he was. He thanked god above that his father gave him a Lordship, or a job of any kind for that matter. If he had been thrown in prison, with nothing to do but think, he would have gone mad.

They both dismissed themselves within moments of each other and went to their separate bedrooms.

…

Johanna closed the door to her bedroom, her room already prepared by her Lady in Waiting. She asked if she could be of any further use, before being dismissed. Johanna took off her dress, before getting in bed. She looked at the photograph of her dearly departed Franz. A young officer and her fiancé, he had been killed in the last war. Although a minor war, men still do die in such affairs, and her beloved Franz had been one of them. No marriage, no wedding night.

She had clutched the portrait, sobbing. She was willing to do what it took to get revenge. If she gave birth to a King and became Regent while he was young, she could go to war. Corona would pay for killing Franz. It didn't matter if they played all nice now, and they were on good terms. If that stupid bitch Rapunzel hadn't been found, the succession would have gone as planned. And the war of the Coronan succession would have never had happened. And Franz would be alive.

She would pay. Rapunzel would die, and Corona would burn. She would spread her legs to anyone to make that happen. She would bear a King.

She kissed the portrait. _I'll get her Franz. I'll make her pay for killing you._

…

**Bit of notes.**

**This chapter was a pain in the ass to write. For days, it languished at 1500 words or so, and felt unfinished. Bit of writers block, as the first two chapters practically wrote themselves. Then in one day I churned out the entire second half, sat on it overnight, and posted in the morning as I always do. Good news is like a third of Chapter 4 is already written, and as I have a good idea on what it's about, it shouldn't take too long. **

**Feeling pretty good on Lady Johanna's new motivations, should make things fun, as always. Felt that some proper motivation was needed. Between the two schemers, we should see plenty of Shadow Boxing in the future. Please Review and Keep reading.**

**As for the Prussian, it was not unusual for officers and NCOs of different countries to serve in foreign armies for the right price. As for Prussian discipline (i.e. blatantly beating men for minor infractions), this was common for the era. If anything, I toned it down.**


	4. Chapter 4- Laid Bare

Fritz slowly went through the steps of loading a rifle yet again, as his unit prepared to fire another volley at the simple earth berm. The point was less about accuracy, and more about being able to smoothly load and then discharge a rifle under the stress of combat. Today was the first day.

Even Sergeant Wulfhart had insisted that today be slow and steady, working on form and familiarization. Learn how to fire slow smoothly, then increase speed until one can fire 3 rounds a minute, the European standard.

_Tear Cartridge, Pour, ram, ball, ram, cock, cap, and fire!_

"Ready to discharge!"

A Corporal quickly walked up, doing a quick inspection to ensure the rifle had no major infractions. "What, no ramrod in the barrel? You're getting better. Discharge."

Fritz looked down in embarrassment. The first time he had loaded the rifle, he was so caught up in the motion that he had completely forgotten to remove the ramrod from the barrel. Had he fired, he would have sent the ramrod hundreds of feet down range, leaving him incapable of reloading.

He shook the embarrassing moment from his head, aiming the rifle and squeezing the trigger. The rifled musket discharged, sending the lead ball down range, impacting the berm. He smiled, as he had gotten considerably better since he had begun.

"Platoon, Attention!"

Now a disciplined man, Fritz snapped to the position of attention, in this case being order arms. The unit fell into the formation in mere seconds, before freezing solid. Their Company Commander, Captain Raeksen had arrived, inspecting the progress of his men.

Everyone had grown to hate the Captain. The Nephew of a General on the General staff, he owed his position only to money and nepotism. He loved to lord his superiority as an officer over the men, and was known to cane men who had as much as glanced at him, attention or not. Men like him were common on Kurzheim. Too stupid, cruel, or incompetent to be trusted to lead "real" formations, they had been dumped on Kurzheim to satisfy their egos, while not incurring the wrath of their benefactors.

Sergeant Wulfhart gave a swift salute, before resuming the position of attention, unmoving. The Captain gave a half-hearted salute in return. Not a major offense as all officers did this after their 1000th salute or so, but it was just another little thing that they hated about him.

"How goes the training, Sergeant?"

"Slow, but well sir."

"Slow?"

"Yes sir. Today is mostly learning the basics, and ensuring the men can load and fire a rifle safely."

"How is their speed?"

"Speed sir? Today is about form and safety sir. They-"

"WHAT IS THEIR RATE OF FIRE, _SERGEANT!?"_

"Most have trouble firing two rounds a minute, sir."

"Then you must be going too softly on them, Sergeant!"

He took a quick glance down the line, before settling on Fritz. "You there!"

"Yes Sir!"

"You are to fire 3 rounds in a minute. Fail, and you will have Guard duty every night for a week!"

Fritz's heart sank. There was no way he could do that! But he had to try. He was exhausted after only one night, let alone a whole week.

"Yes Sir!"

The Captain produced a stopwatch, flipping the switch so it opened. "Get ready!" Fritz stepped forward, mentally focusing on the task at hand. "Now!"

Fritz's hands trembled as he opened his cartridge box, withdrawing a single wax paper wrapped ball and powder, but causing another to tumble out. He shakily poured the gunpowder into the barrel, before stuffing the whole thing in, pulling out his ramrod and ramming it home, withdrawing the ramrod and placing in back beneath the barrel.

"20 Seconds"

Fritz panicked even more so, nearly spilling his percussion caps as he placed one in its proper place below the hammer, before aiming and firing.

"27 Seconds." By now, the Captains face was one of glee, as he loved to torment men under his command.

Fritz tried to race through the steps, taking shortcuts. He didn't wait till the powder fully emptied into the barrel before loading the cartridge and ball, and violently threw the ramrod into the barrel in a desperate attempt to save time.

"40 Seconds."

Fritz tore open his cap case, send a number of caps flying as he stuffed one into the hammer assembly and fired. The Rifle made and odd noise when he fired, causing Fritz to look in puzzlement at his Sergeant, who was shaking his head. He had messed up, _bad._

"You shot your ramrod downrange, _Dumkopf." _Wulfhart said in a tone or more disappointment, then anger. "Rifle over your head, now go retrieve it." Fritz turned red as a beet as he promptly did as he was told and began sprinting downrange.

"What was that?"

"The Private shot his ramrod down rage. I'm making him go get it while discouraging him to not do it again."

The officer sighed, shaking his head. "You see, Sergeant, that's why your men are not meeting standards, you are simply too lenient to them. The harder you are, the better they perform. They are not unlike horses. The harder you whip, the faster they run."

By this point, Fritz had returned, rifle and ramrod in hand, panting from running 100 yards. Wulfhart, annoyed that a spoiled brat was giving him, a 5 year veteran of the Prussian army, instruction on discipline intended to make the soldier hand him the ramrod before chucking it downrange again. This was his standard response to firing a ramrod, as it made a soldier useless in a line battle.

However, the Captain preempted him. Pulling out a simple notebook, he asked calmly. "Soldier, rank and name."

"Sir, Private Fritz Snavsfelt, Sir."

A quick scribble, and then the Captain gave out the verdict with the same emotion one would order an appetizer.

"Private Fritz Snavsfelt, by the authority granted to me as an officer in the Royal Army, you are hereby sentenced to 10 lashes, to be carried out tomorrow. Carry on." The Sergeant gave a bitter salute, as the officer gave a sloppy return salute before departing. Fritz could only stand there, mouth gaping in horror. He was to be whipped.

He turned in desperation to the man he had come to respect as much, if not more, than his father- Sergeant Wulfhart. "Sergeant?" It was plead of mercy to the grizzled man, as well as asking for reassurance, an explanation to make all right in the world. Privates will move mountains if a good Sergeant or Officers explains why.

But Wulfhart could give no reassurances, or explanations. This was not discipline. This was cruelty. You did not whip a man for a rookie mistake when he was only an hour into training. Not even back in Prussia. Criminals and Cowards were whipped, not mistake-prone privates. He turned to the terrified young man, mustering the most human expression he had ever given a recruit, a look of genuine sympathy for the man. With a simple hand on his soldier, he gave his response.

"Be strong, boy. You'll make it through. Face it with bravery."

And with that, he left the soldier, as Fritz began to weep.

…

The Next Day.

Fritz was led to the wagon wheel as the entire Battalion was formed up to watch the flogging. The entirety of the Battalion watching was supposed to bring shame on the man being flogged, as well and to discourage others from carrying out the crime in the future. However, as Fritz had done little wrong, and everyone knew it, it only meant the entire Battalion was with him in solidarity.

The two escorts removed his uniform jacket and undershirt, displaying his bare back, ready to be whipped. The two escorts had been relatively civil, only following their orders. As the two departed, Sergeant Wulfhart approached Captain Raeksen, saluting him properly, as a whip was tucked in his belt.

"Sergeant, carry out the punishment!"

"Jahowl, Herr Hauptman." Another salute, followed by an about face. Oddly, an orderly followed the Sergeant, which was strange as Wulfhart usually preferred to go without one. He quietly approached Fritz, leaning in. He produced a cowhide bridle, sticking it in Fritz's mouth.

"Bite down, _Kammerad. _It helps, _trust me." _He paused before whispering. "Be strong, _kinder. _Don't give that bastard satisfaction."

He walked past to the appropriate distance, turning to face Fritz's back. What he did next was against all regulations, but made him a hero. He wiped sweat from his brow, turning to his orderly.

"It is too hot to do this in uniform, Ja?" He then proceeded to take off his Prussian blue tunic, Cap and undershirt, leaving him bare chested. But it wasn't his chest that drew attention. As he drew the whip and did a few "stretches," his horribly scarred back was plain as day for every man in the battalion. Any man that knew Sergeant Wulfhart knew that the man was one to drill tirelessly in full kit on much hotter days. It was an excuse to make a statement. A statement of solidarity. He had clutched the wagon wheel, he had been flogged. And only flogged men should flog men.

"What is he doing!?" Captain Raeksen screamed. But before he could act, Oleg clutched his arm, stopping him.

"I don't know what you are talking about Captain. The Sergeant must be hot, that's all it is."

"You fool! He is clearly undermining discipline in the Battalion!"

"You would be wise to give me courtesy, _Captain. _It may be your flogging, but it's _my_ Battalion."

The officer commanding the actual flogging, a young Lieutenant spoke up, following his own orders. "Sergeant, 10 lashes."

"Yes sir." Wulfhart let the slack drop, before drawing the whip back. He sent it forward, with an audible _crack._

Fritz let off a muffled scream as the leather slashed his back open.

"One Sir!" He drew it back again, once again sending it forward. He hated it, but a flogging was a flogging. It'd be done right.

Another scream. Fritz eyes watered from the horrible stinging sensation of an open wound.

"Two Sir!" He drew back yet again, before lashing again mercilessly.

Fritz was sobbing now, as tears streamed down his cheeks.

"Three Sir!"

…

"TEN AND _COMPLETE,_ SIR!" Wulfhart turned to the Lieutenant, standing at attention.

The Lieutenant, sickened by the display, was eager to be done with this affair. "Punishment carried out, Sergeant, carry on." Wulfhart saluted, before handing his orderly the bloody whip and retrieving his uniform, which he quickly donned.

He approached the gasping soldier, drawing a flask of liquor. He glanced at the patchwork of yet to be scars on the boy's back, as two of Fritz's comrades helped him off of the wheel.

"You did well _kammerad_, Here." Wulfhart unscrewed the flask. "In the Prussian army, he have a half and half method to help get over floggings. Half in the mouth…" He poured the drink down Fritz's mouth, several shots worth, enough that he would be intoxicated shortly. "… And half on the back." He poured the alcohol on the raw flesh of his back, nearly causing him to yelp in agony for half a second.

"Go to the infirmary. Get patched up. I don't expect to see you tomorrow. I'll try to get you a week. But no promises with that _Dumkopf _around, Ja?" He patted him on the shoulder, as his two comrades helped him walk to the infirmary.

…

"My Lord, we need to address the crisis in the garrison Battalion."

Hans sighed, as he stood up from his desk, where he was working on his economic plans. Economic reforms would have to wait.

"When I gave you command, I was under the impression that you dealt with thing like that, Oleg."

"I held back from major reforms to wait on your specific plans, My Lord. And even so, this requires your attention."

"Well?"

"The officers here are morons. They hand out floggings like greetings and wonder why the rank and file are near revolt." He paused, walking over to the chair, bracing on it. "Don't get me wrong- whipping is a great tool to combat cowardice and minor crimes like theft or insubordination. But these fools whip a man for a minor mistake on his first day of rifle training?" He shook his head.

"So fix it, Oleg!" Hans was a power hungry madman, but he knew the key to successful management was delegating tasks to subordinates. He was no great commander, but Oleg was.

The lower born man sighed. "That's the problem my lord. Captain Raeksen and his ilk have friends in high places. I need you to back me up when I kick their asses off the island."

"I see. Arrange a surprise inspection…" Hans opened his date book, checking for scheduling. "…the day after tomorrow. I'll find an excuse to dismiss them for. I also want replacements- _good replacements_ for their posts. Any other recommendations or plans of actions as well."

"Of course my Lord." Oleg had a number of ideas and plans in mind, he'd use the time to flesh them out and put them to paper. He was going fix the cluster fuck of a battalion, even if it killed him.

"Dismissed, Colonel."

Hans watch the man click his heels together, before turning and depart. He sighed, returning to his work. Budget figures weren't going to calculate themselves…

…

"Fall in, FALL IN!"

Fritz dropped his wood axe and sprinted towards his company's drill area, grabbing his white tunic and Kepi as dozens of men on other tasks did likewise. The NCOs and Officers screamed at them to hurry up, as arms where unstacked and clueless Privates were tossed and thrown as NCOs moved men into their proper positions in Company Formation. Whatever it was, it was unplanned.

Sergeant Wulfhart put Fritz in formation, passing him a Rucksack and his rifle from stacked arms. As he buttoned his tunic and threw on the black Leather Ruck, causing him to Grimace. As foretold, yesterday Captain Raeksen had ordered Fritz back onto duty, to the protest of the Doctor and Sergeant Wulfhart.

Even putting on the Wool tunic in the morning hurt, let alone a heavy rucksack. But unbeknown to Fritz, Captain Raeksen had little to do with this. Three minutes prior at 2:50 a messenger arrived with orders for the Company to prepare for and to receive Lord Hans and Lieutenant Colonel Schwarzkopf as they conducted an inspection. They berated the messenger who as ordered informed that there was a mix-up and orders meant for the morning had been delayed.

Which was bullshit. The order was written and sent less than an hour ago. As the clock hit 3, the young Lord and the Colonel approached on horseback, accompanied by a small escort party of horsemen, impeccably on time. Any experienced soldier would have known something was up, as Officers where _never _on time with their own formations.

The Captain saluted and greeted the official party, and the two went straight to work. Generally these things consist of a quick walkthrough, before the Lord gets bored and ends the whole thing. But Hans and Oleg were not here as some courtesy. They were here to destroy Captain Raeksen. The meticulously looked for a solid excuse, and it didn't take long.

Oleg had remembered Fritz's face.

"You! Come here, on the double!"

"MOVING SIR!" Fritz fell out properly, before running to the proper distance from the Light Colonel. Snapping to attention, he presented himself, scared that they would find a flaw with his kit.

"Are you Private Fritz Snavsfelt?"

"Yes Sir!"

"Remove your pack, Tunic, and undershirt if you are wearing one Private."

"Yes Sir!"

Still not understanding the game played high above his level, Fritz did what he was told. Within a minute, he stood, bare chested. He hoped the officer would not remember the flogging. Officer's were always harder on flogged men.

"Turn about."

"Yes Sir!"

The young soldier turned his back on the Colonel and Lord with a proper about face. Still Bandaged from daily bandage changes, a few of the cuts had reopened, causing the white dressing to turn red again. Turning slightly to Hans, he gestured with his baton, explaining the situation.

"My Lord, that man was flogged two days ago for a very minor offense. According to regulations, a flogged man is put on bed rest for 3-7 days. It's been two."

Hans smiled. This was perfect. "Captain, _why _is that man not on quarters?"

The Captain couldn't think of a proper response.

"Are you a sadist? Do you _enjoy _damaging army property? The Southern Isles needs soldiers, and if fools like you continue, we'll have none left!"

Raeksen tried to deflect blame. "I had nothing to do with it! He's Sergeant Wulfhart's man! _He's _responsible for him!"

"YOU LIE!" The Battalion Medical officer was visiting to treat various light injuries, and had come out to see the commotion. He could not have been in a better place.

"Private Snavsfelt was ordered to return to FULL duty, DESPITE my, and more importantly at the moment, Sergeant Wulfhart's protest. I even have a written complaint for the two of us."

Oleg had had enough. He dismounted his horse, approaching the Captain, striking him with his Baton.

"YOU LITTLE SHIT! YOU _DARE_ LIE TO A SUPERIOR OFFICER, AS WELL AS YOUR LORD?!" Another strike.

"Men, arrest Captain Raeksen on charges of conspiracy, lying to an officer, lying to a noble, and abuse of power. Lieutenant!"

Lieutenant Schmidt stepped out, saluting. "SIR?"

"Until further notice, you are in command of 1st Company. Carry on."

"SIR!"

As the watched Captain Raeksen be put in chains weeping, and carried off, they all felt a large degree of satisfaction. Fritz was not the first soldier Raeksen abused. Afterwards they fell out, and Fritz once again felt fear as Lt. Schmidt approached him. He had no issues with him before, but the young officer had presided over the flogging.

"Private Snavsfelt!"  
>"SIR?"<p>

"You are to be on quarters for the next week. I better not catch you doing anything but rest and eat. Am I clear?"

"YES SIR!"

"Sergeant Wulfhart, square this soldier away."

As the Prussian led him back to the infirmary, Fritz couldn't help but smile. Born on remote Kurzheim and barely literate, Fritz could not read the newspapers even if they did arrive here. He had never heard of Arendelle, or of Queen Elsa or Princess Anna. What he _did _know was that young Lord Hans had arrested a bastard of an officer because a Private was being abused. If that didn't make him a good Lord, he didn't know what would. Some rumors had come down about how he was disgraced and such, but Fritz didn't care.

_There's a Lord I'd follow to hell and back!_

…

Hans stood in the room, surrounded by a number of officers. All uneasy, they quietly awaited Hans to speak, lest they be targeted. Hans' surprise inspection targeted every company in the battalion, with 5 officers arrested on various charges, and two Company Commanders relieved.

While all were scared, they had mixed feelings as a group. Kurzheim was where undesirables were sent. For some, undesirable qualities meant abusive tendencies, laziness, incompetence or corruption. For others, Kurzheim was their punishment for poor heritage, religious differences, or weakness of character. Some struggled with the drink or the women of the night.

Some wanted things to stay the same, a paradise for bad officers. Others, desperate to escape so they may be of use, welcomed any change. Hans was about to make one group very happy. Facing his office window, he stared out onto the bleak landscape or barren Kurzheim.

"I had been told of how rotten Kurzheim was, but I never expected this. So rotten, so hollow, that a surprise inspection cracks and shatters the whole establishment. If there were newspapers here, there'd be a scandal."

Silence. Hans turned, his hands behind his back, coldly staring the men in the room down. He didn't realize it, but he was channeling his father very much now.

"It ends gentlemen, if I can even call you men that title. You have a simple choice. Leave or stay. I will facilitate your transfers or resignations, there will be no repercussions. I'll even pay for the boat ticket, because I don't want you. You sicken and corrupt the very formations you lead. Officers are _examples _for the men."

He paused, swallowing.

"Some of you may wish to go back to being officers and gentlemen, if you ever where. If you are sincere, you are welcome. It will be hard, but rewarding. If you stay, but wish to fight me, to keep things the way they are, I WILL destroy you. Think you have friends in high places? My father is the King."

An officer scoffed. "We know what happened, Lord Hans. You no longer have your father's favor." A couple of smirks and chuckles.

"Maybe so, but my Father sent me here to _fix _this shithole. He won't look kindly on… obstructions. Test me. You _know _how ruthless I can be."

Hence one of Hans' strengths. He once was referred to by an observer as a "Mirror." To blend in, to get allies, to threaten enemies, he adapted the qualities of his conversational opposite. He was in a room of corrupt, brutal officers who only understood brutality. So he became them.

Hans laughed, shaking his head. "You think you are crueler than me? You think you can outsmart and backstab me? You think you are all such ruthless men." He changed to a darker, more serious tone.

"I planned for years, a ruthless and terrible coup. I attempted to murder my fiancé in cold blood, just so I'd officially be King, rather than be regent. I broke a woman's heart just so I could kill her. And I didn't even dislike them, they just stood in my way. What do you think I'll do to some that I hate?"

They were once again cowed. They shuffled their feet and eyed the ground. Most decided then and there to leave Kurzheim. It wasn't a fight worth fighting. There were other 2nd rate units, other posts that could hide bad officers. And Hans didn't offer a gentle farewell.

Slamming his hands onto the desk, he adopted their utmost cruelty, staring into their very souls. With a voice nearly a growl, he commanded their withdrawal.

"Now get out of my sight!"

They mostly stumbled over themselves as they clicked their heels and turned to leave, with most filing out as quickly as possible. But not all did so. A few maintained a firm glare back at their Lord, calmly and stoically dismissing themselves, leaving the room last. As they left, Hans did his best to remember their faces.

_Those men are either going to be my best officers, or my worst enemies. Either way, I'd do well to remember them._

He relaxed, slumping back into his chair. It had been an eventful and good day. The worse Officers were gone, the men's morale has stabilized, and steps had been taken. A slight pay raise. A new training regimen. Better food. And most of all, Oleg had recommended a Prussian NCO for the post of Sergeant Major, which Hans approved. His military was stable, so he could finally return to economic matters, which started tomorrow.

_Now the real battle starts._

Bit of Notes-

If you must know, this chapter was inspired when I watched Starship Troopers. A movie I have come to reappraise after watching it again. But you're not here for that. This chapter was half written after the flogging scene, where it stagnated due to work and Faith and Duty. Next chapter has us go back to Hans scheming and making shit work on Kurzheim, with a _fun _arc coming up. Let's just say I have a fun shout out to past Disney works coming. Even if this now means I have to re-watch said works for "research" so it may take a while.

Luckily though, Hans' Fate is now getting my full attention Fanfiction wise for the next month, with the exception to a short one-shot coming. Hopefully it won't take 3 weeks this time. (You see, coming up with plot instead of piggybacking on Frozen's is _hard.__) _Crossing my fingers.

As for the Mirror bit, I got that from the Frozen/Disney wiki on Hans, which I thought was another clever, if subtle shout out to the fairy tale. If you watch the Movie, you'll notice that Hans basically mirrors whoever he is talking to. Clumsy and Nice for Anna, Harsh and Threatening to the Duke of Weselton, and Regretful and Helpless to help Elsa in Jail. Kinda impressive, ain't it?


	5. Chapter 5- Dirt Poor

Kurzheim, August 1840

Hans strolled through the courtyard, as he watched the last shipment of Capital roll into the newly constructed vault. Unimpressed with the previous treasury, he had promptly ordered his Groundskeeper, Rolf to construct an annex from the old one. Now finished, Rolf had begun improving the Keep's outer wall. The already small courtyard was littered with piles and piles of bricks.

This was of course bothering Lady Johanna, who enjoyed gardening. As it was August, she was putting the last work on the summer garden before preparing to move things to her small greenhouse. All the bricks piled everywhere wasn't not making her happy. Hans allowed himself to be petty, laughing when she vented throughout the day.

As he sat on a bench doing more paperwork and figures, he also handled two appointments for the day. The first was with Wagner, who Hans had not seen much of. Wagner was on a general assignment of intelligence gathering. Wagner was effectively assessing the shadow world of Kurzheim. Not only the underworld, but the unofficial world. For example, a Village might have a Lord-assigned Mayor, but usually, every village had a guy. The guy people turned to when they had issues. Wagner was finding those guys.

Today, though, he was dealing with a simpler task.

"Wagner, Soon I'll need a personal Guard. As of now, I got units rotating through. I don't like that. Find me 3 dozen good, hard, _loyal_ men. They don't need to be soldiers, just men. Men that I don't need to keep an eye on."

"Of course, sir."

"Good, get it done."

With the shadow business taken care of, Hans put his mind into an economic stand point. The next appointment was a small team of surveyors, economists, and other experts. Paid via a small down payment plus a bonus for every item of interest, they had every incentive to find things of value. The team leader, did not look encouraging.

Hans sprung to his feet, waiting for the report for ages. "Well?"

The older man shook his head. "My Lord, while Kurzheim has a decent farming and fishing economy, neither could be developed into a booming industry. There's no Iron, Coal, Silver or gold here. The timber is substandard, and we're poorly placed for trading. In other words, Kurzheim is of little value."

Hans fumed. If these men couldn't find _anything, _there was little hope. Angry at the shitty nature of the Island, Hans screamed, grabbing and flinging a brick as hard as he could at the wall. Lady Johanna laughed as she weeded, glad to see she wasn't the only one having a bad day.

Hans paced angrily, cursing before a stray thought had entered his head. One of a childhood memory.

…

Kesselburg, Summer 1826.

"HANS, GET DOWN HERE, NOW!"

10 year old Hans pouted as he started climbing down for the brick building in the castle. Part way down, his feet knocked out an older brick, as Hans watched as the brick fell the 10 or so feet shattering on the cobblestone. He made the rest of the way down, where a furious Queen grabbed her youngest son, shaking him. Her long black hair running down her back, and her blue eyes of the sea staring intently at him.

"You could have gotten hurt! You're confined to your room until further notice! And I assure you, your father will hear about this!"

Young Hans, terrified to face his father, began sobbing as he shuffled to his room. The Queen stood, defiant in the face of a troublesome little boy. It wasn't until her boy was out of sight, that she softened her posture. She hated being harsh, but it was the only way boys learned. She had played this game 12 times before, and she always won.

…

Present Day, Kurzheim.

He walked up to the brick he threw at the wall. He picked it up, remembering how hard he chucked it. Remarkably, it was still intact. Most masonry bricks were not that strong, yet this brick didn't have as much as a crack in it. An attentive fellow, Rolf approached, inquiring.

"How may I help you, My Lord?"

"Rolf, _where _do they make these bricks?"

…

Hans stepped out of his carriage, taking in the sight and smells of the poorest town of Kurzheim, Kanton. Kanton was the village that provided most of the coastal settlements with their raw materials. Wood, clay and bricks all came from Kanton. Life was hard, dirty and crappy here.

The Brick makers turned out to be no different than others Hans had encountered. Shaping the raw materials by hand before firing it, there was little special about their technique. Eager to please their new Lord, they did inform Hans that the clay was what made the bricks so strong.

So he visited the Clay Pit. Little more than a hole dug into the ground, with standing grey water. A Dozen or so men dug and shoveled clay into bins, as a large bald man directed them, unafraid to get dirty with his men. Upon spotting the former-Prince, he immediately made his way up the ladder. Reaching the top, he removed his mud spotted cap, bowing his head in reverence.

"My Lord, it is an honor." The man spoke with a slight Slavic accent, hinting of an origin in the Baltics.

"Relax, I'm just curious about your… facilities."

"Ah! We make the best mud in the world here, sire!" The foreman picked up a brick, slamming it into a hardwood support beam. "5 times stronger than steel, but half the weight!"

Hans seriously doubted the truth of the statement, but he knew he had found the source of the bricks. As the Foreman continued to rattle on about his "pit," He turned to Kurt, one of the experts, a man who understood everything there was to be known about soil and dirt. Though his expertise was farming soil, he did understand what mud made good bricks or not.

"Kurt, what do you think of all this?"

"Well, I don't know, my Lord."

"What do you mean? We could make the best bricks in the world!"

"Yes, but shipping costs would make them far too expensive to be viable. However, I can do tests for Kaolin."

"Kaolin?"

"It's a vital ingredient for Porcelain. If the test comes back good, it means we could make fine china here."

Hans thought about the implications. The Southern Isles never had a local Porcelain manufacturer, they had always to buy from Denmark or Norway. Even Arendelle had a small factory. They just never had an island with the raw materials to make it. Until now.

"Do what's needed. We finally may have what we need to make money."

"As you wish, my Lord." He bowed and departed for his tools. As the scientist departed, the Foreman focused his attention on the Lord. "My Lord, do you want to take a tour of the storage facility?"

Well, he had nothing better to do until the afternoon. Extending a hand, he gestured "Carry on."

"Good choice, My Lord!" The Foreman slapped Hans' back, with his thick muddy gloves with a thick, hearty laugh, leaving a muddy print on his white uniform. Hans didn't notice. He was too busy thinking and planning.

_It's going to be messy, and hard. But I will beat the Royal Copenhagen plant out of the Southern Isles!_

…

Hans watched the Signal Engineers closed their kits, finished with their tasks. It had been a long month, but they had completed their task- Installing a Telegraph wire. Hans had commissioned them the day he was informed he was to be exiled here. While the basic technology had gone back a century, practical widespread use had just come into use. Only major cities had spent the money on the technology, with the military already buying as much of the stuff as they could.

Hans had put down a considerable amount buying the miles of telegraph wire, linking himself to the nation's system. Running to the Telegraph Office in Nordsiden, the Duchy's capital, Hans' could now be fully up to date with news and business through the major centers of the Southern Isles.

One of the engineers sat down at the station, placing a headset on his head, and conducted a test message to Nordsiden. Hans understood that he was using something called Morse code, a system in which every character was represent by a series of "dots" or "dashes." To Hans though, it was a series of unintelligible Hammering on the device. The message was sent out in short order, followed by a brief pause. Hans, the operator, and the other Engineers waited without a sound.

After about a minute, the device emitted a series of beeps, in which the Operator began to translate and copy onto a piece of scratch paper. Once the message concluded, the man handed the paper to Hans, before signaling once more. Hans read the message.

_Kurzheim, this is Nordsiden,_

_We read you loud and clear. Welcome to the Network, Boys!_

Hans had already began work on his intentions for the device. The Engineers would now spend the next few weeks training hand-picked Soldiers for Signal duty, where they would learn Morse code and everything they would need to repair the system if it went down. Then the Engineers would depart.

At this point, the men would be manning the station day and night, as they would receive and transmit vital information. Hans wanted daily reports from both Nordsiden and Kesselburg, where men of his would send messages to be transmitted, so Hans would be fully aware of the Happenings of the outside world, instead of relying on ship travel or messenger pigeons to deliver the news.

And it would just be the beginning. In time he would install such an office in every major settlement on Kurzheim, as well as the Army Camp. And it would all come back to here, the hub of the nervous system. He could put the Garrison on Alert in a moment's notice, or schedule a shipment of goods without sending a man to oversee it. It would be wonderful.

As he left the room, he met the 15 Men handpicked for signal training. Literate, good reflexes, loyal, and good hearing were what brought these men here. In addition to that, these men would supplement the Keep's Guard. It was time to inform these still unaware men their new purpose.

"Gentlemen, as you know, you've been selected for a special assignment. However, you don't know what your assignment was when you were selected."

Gesturing through the open door, Hans displayed his new toy. "You are to become the start of Kurzheim's Signal Corps."

Some sighed in relief, others shook their heads in frustration. Hans had an inkling why.

"You all came from an Infantry Battalion. Some of you wanted to fight, some of you didn't. That doesn't matter now. Each one of you will be more valuable than an entire Company in regards of the defense of this Island, and our Country as a whole."

Hans had dealt with the young bucks before. He had spent a short term as an Officer in the Royal Marines. There was always untested boys who wanted to go to battle. No matter how horrible the older men describe the affair, no matter how many books come out describing the futility and horror of war, it doesn't matter. Young men are always drawn to battle.

Hans would have Oleg review the short list again, see if he could get the eager boys out of the outfit. There is no more undisciplined man than a young buck who is stuck in a non-combat outfit.

…

Hans and Johanna ate dinner silently, as they had for the past month. Neither had spoken to each other beyond table mannerisms and asking to pass food. They had brief discussions outside of their evening meal, when it was easy to pretend they were not husband and wife. Here, it was harder to obscure that "relationship."

Both had been just too damn proud to play nice to smooth the feathers, and become anything more than bitter roommates. Once again Hans cursed himself at failing in Arendelle, though it was a different reason why. This time, it was because he had tasted love, at least the love of someone else. How to Princess Anna, he was everything she wanted and needed. Had it been anyone else but her sister that ran, she would have never left Hans.

It was a false relationship, built on lies, greed and deceit, but he had that taste in his mouth. The cold blooded murderer was still exactly that, except now he had felt love, and now _wanted _it. So he was desperate to find a way to begin a true relationship with Lady Johanna.

But if there was a total opposite of Anna out there, it was her. Johanna was quiet, very graceful, had no adventurous spirit, and while not a pessimist, had a very realistic outlook on life. For a month Hans had probed, trying to find a weakness, an entry way, but he could not find one. It didn't help he had little courting experience.

Hans had never seriously courted for a suitor during his teen years. He wasn't in demand, and he was too focused on making himself "better" than his older brothers. All day he studied and trained. Suddenly Hans was 16 years old, and had had yet to even dance with a girl at a ball. King Friedrich had decided to intervene. Hans still remembered that talk.

…

Kesselburg, winter 1832

Hans sat in his room reviewing the newspaper for stock prices. He had recently discover investing, and was hooked on turning his princely allowance into even more money. A distinct knock of wood on wood interrupted him. His father had come to talk.

"Come in, Father."

His father came in, a little nervous himself. He had already given "The Talk" to Hans, which was easy considering he had done it 12 times before. This was a little more awkward. He had notice his son's total lack of interest in women at the various balls, which made Frederick worry that his youngest boy was more… _interested_ in other men. He felt it was time to deal with it.

Pulling up a chair, the older man gathered his thoughts. Hans, a little worried started first.

"Father, what's wrong?"

"Son, I've noticed you don't like dancing, talking or looking at girls at the ball."

Hans was a little confused. "And?"

"Well, I gave you the talk a few years ago, because that's when boys start getting urges. When you hadn't, I thought maybe you were a late bloomer. But you're 16 now. Hell, when Alexander was 16, he was sleeping with maids, for god's sake!"

"I don't understand what this is about."

"Son, do you feel the way I described men feel about women, about other men?"

Hans face twisted to one of surprise and horror. His father thought he was Queer.

"No, God no!"

"Then what's your issue, boy?! I moved heaven and earth to stop your older brothers from fucking the staff and other ladies, and yet you don't even give them a second glance!"

"I don't know! It just seems a waste of time, no one wants to marry the 13th in line anyways…"

"Is that what this is about?" The King laughed, slapping his leg in a fit. "Hans, I was the son of a Knight, and yet I married the Princess! If anything, you have it better than your older brothers!"

"How so?"

"Hans, your oldest brothers are doomed to political marriages, with little to no love in them. You, you get to _choose."_

"Even then, I have no idea what to do. What if I make a fool of myself?"

"Son, did I ever tell you how I met your mother?"

"No." Hans had attempted to say it in a way that had no curiosity in it, as he really did not want to hear his father's story. It was to no avail.

"We were both 12 years old. It was her Birthday, and her parents and the entirety of the young nobility was there. You mother was… eccentric as a young girl. Most of the others didn't really interact with her that much. So I decided to be brave, and offer her a dance. And it went perfectly at first."

Hans struggled to imagine his father as a 12 year, as Frederick slightly blushed, remembering the embarrassment of that day.

"Then there was a… accident, and I was sent over a table, into a bowl of punch, ruining my cadet uniform."

Hans began to laugh, causing the older man to shoot his son a look. Hans quickly stifled his laughter, knowing that this was a thought to laugh at later rather than annoy his father.

"She then did something very odd, and me being a stupid boy, nearly undid any connection we gained from that dance. In anger, I mocked her unusual traits. And it nearly cost me everything I value in this world. She would not talk to me for years. For 15 seconds of stupidity. I had to prove myself a man before I could win her back, show that the stupid, vain boy was gone."

He sighed, feeling such shame that he had nearly not had the life he cherished, and the family he loved.

"In closing, be brave and jump in. Love isn't a problem that's defeated with strategy, it's a leap of faith. Sometimes you get hurt, son. But sometimes, it's the greatest thing that will ever happen. Be yourself, and don't hide who you are. Don't be quick to judge or mock her faults, sometimes, it's the best things about her. Embrace them."  
>He patted his son on the shoulder, confident he had set his son up for success in the game of love. He had no idea what damage his lesson would inflict. Not even Hans knew yet. Hans would one day "embrace" the odder qualities of a Princess Anna, to disastrous effect. But that lesson would one day be used for a less diabolical purpose.<p>

…

Kurzheim, August 1840

Hans was done with it. Time for a leap of faith.

"So how was your day?"

Johanna lifted her head in puzzlement, surprised by the sudden inquiry. "Excuse Me?"

"How was your day?"

So shocked by the question, she initially went with it. "Tolerable, I guess. Finished my gardening preparations for winter."

"That's… interesting I guess."

"Well, asshole, what did _you_ do?"

Despite trying to avoid being as self-important as always, Hans couldn't help but take up the opportunity to boast about his minor and not-so-minor accomplishments.

"Installed a Telegraph office, reshaped our mud farming industry."

Despite growing up on Kurzheim, even Johanna was thrown off by the concept of a region being so poor, as to farm mud.

"Mud farming?"

"Well, technically Clay mining. But on the subject, perhaps we could start exporting compost-"

Johanna's sense of vertigo had passed. Her mind realized who she was talking to, and panicked. As far as she was concerned, one would be better off having a conversation with the serpent of Eden.

"Stop. I know what you are doing, you're trying to charm me, like you did with Anna."

Hans shook his head, tired of the doors being slammed in his face. "And to what end?"

"You're trying to make me love you, and I'm not having it!"

Han's charming mood vanished, as his true feelings revealed themselves. His face twisted into an angry snarl, as he bolted up, throwing a glass at the wall. He was angry at being stuck on Kurzheim, at being hated by anyone who was literate, and at having a wife who was hostile to the concept of loving him. He was angry at himself and the world. Finally, true words came out.

"AND WOULD THAT BE SO DAMNED BAD!?"

Before Johanna could respond Hans launched into a tirade. His face turned red, and hammered out words so fast he scarcely had time to breathe.

"For god's sake, we are married! Even political marriages they _try _to love each other! We are a month into our marriage and we don't speak, we sleep in different beds, and we can't be in the same room for more than 5 minutes!"

Hans calmed down, with less shouting, but still firmly convicted and truthful.

"Yes, I lied and manipulate Anna to get her to marry me. I did so to steal her kingdom. What the fuck am I going to steal from you? We are already married!"

Johanna finally found a chance to interject. "Then why, why charm? Why try to court me instead of just using me to sire children?"

Hans was sickened by that very thought. That is one morality lesson his father imparted that stuck. "I am _many things, _but I am NOT a rapist!"

"It's not rape, I knew what our union meant. I signed up to be nothing more than a baby factory in your eyes! _Why _are you, he who does nothing but advance his own standing, care so damned much if I like you or not."

Seeing no choice, Hans slumped into his chair, admitting one of his revelations from his time in Arendelle. He had embraced his identity as a monster with a frozen heart, so he hated revealing anything that betrayed that. But, his father was right. He had to be himself with his wife.

"Because of Anna."

"Anna?"

"Our courtship was built on lies, spying, and schemes, but not for her. She honestly thought she loved me. Everything I did, said, or was, was the world to her. A good girl with a big heart, who was determined to give it all to me. I still did what I did, but I had a taste of that love. And while I still have my plans, my schemes, and my goals, I want that _feeling_ again."

Johanna shook her head with a mix of pity and disgust. "Anna was a stupid girl who was desperate for love. I will never give you what she did- total, blind, and stupid love." She sipped her wine, feeling that perhaps it was fair to elaborate and be truthful herself.

"When I was 18, I was set to be married to a young Officer named Franz. I truly loved him and he loved me. Then three years ago, he was killed in the war. I can never love anyone like I did Franz."

"Have you tried?"

"No I-"

"What's the harm of trying? We are stuck together until one of us dies, and I can assure you, if you die in a way that's anyway suspicious, I'd be joining you quickly. So now I have to keep you safe to keep me safe. Since we are stuck together, can't we just _try _to love each other?"

Johanna was torn. She was so lonely since her Mother and Franz died, and did wish for family again. But she was truly loyal to Franz, even past the grave. Even with faced with consummation of her and Hans' wedding night, which _still_ had not happened, her plan was one of a raped woman- Lie back and think of Franz. But Hans was right. And as great as he was, Franz was dead. She wasn't ready to move on, but she was ready to finally try to.

"I guess… we can try."

…

Kesselburg, the Southern Isles.

King Frederick was overlooking a report from his Royal Quartermaster when the knock came. While the assessment that Breechloaders were not feasible for mass issue was troubling, he never was one to leave company waiting.

"Come in."

It was one of his Stewart's underlings, sent to deliver a message or report. Fairly new, he was a little nervous to talk to or address the king.

"Yes?"

"Your majesty, Master Wolfgang wishes to inform you that the Queen Dowager has planned a spontaneous trip."

Hardly news. His wife's mother, she was a free spirit and was prone to go one trips with minimal planning or forethought. However, she was smart, tough and adventurous, so she always made it work. Frederick never saw an issue with it. She was loved throughout the land, and even his critics loved the old, former Queen as she was a kind, loving soul. Even if he felt that she wasn't to kind towards him and his boys…

It was surprising as the Queen Dowager adored her daughter, and she was sick. Very sick. He didn't think it like her to leave now of all times. As such, Frederick wanted to know what was so damned important to visit now.

"Did the Queen Dowager inform Master Wolfgang where she was headed?"

"Indeed she did, Your Highness. She's travelling to Kurzheim."

Frederick stood up, feeling dread. Hans was in trouble now.

…

Kurzheim, the Southern Isles

It had been a good day so far for Hans. Kurt had come back with very positive results for Kaolin. There was loads of the materials needed to begin porcelain production. He had already sent out feelers to investors and his business contacts, as to start on his plan immediately. As such he was anxious for any news about that.

He was walking through the hallway of Manor Kurzheim, heading towards the office when a signal cadet ran up to him, saluting, before handing his a piece of paper. While they still trained on the systems, the Engineers had a funny way of making the recruits do all the heavy lifting.

"Message for you, Sire. Came in this morning."

"Thank you, soldier."

Hans read the report, one of several due that day. It was mostly political and courtly news, minor pieces of information and gossip that Hans read to try to get a big picture. Nothing on investors or business partners. Attached, was a significant piece of information, however.

_Queen Dowager to visit Kurzheim, to congratulate Lord Hans and Lady Johanna on their marriage. _

Hans hand shook with terror as he read that message. More than their father, Hans and his brothers grew up in absolute fear of their grandmother, also known by them as "The Red Terror". She made a habit of scolding and punishing the hell out of them, to avoid them growing up "like their father." She was always one to stress respect for women, honor, and being a good decent person in them. And Hans had strayed very far from that.

He was quite scared, as he should be. The Red Terror was coming, and she was coming for blood.

Bit of News-

Another chapter finished, as life goes on in Kurzheim. This chapter crashed and halted when I introduced the Clay, as I had to go online and look up Brick making, Clay mining and Porcelain. I was going to go with Bricks, but the first automated Brick mass production is almost two decades away, and the cost of shipping bricks is not really feasible. Since we were on mud and ceramics, I decided a Firefly reference was not only cool but necessary.

And yes. I do intend to include a number of more cameos for Firefly. Hero of K(C)anton, anyone?

Building up for a big reveal next chapter, which I intend to churn out as fast as possible, so I can finally tell my brother what it is. (Never been good at keeping secrets.) All I can say is that the material being incorporated _has _been hinted at, and diehard fanatics will most likely already know what I am going to do. If you want to guess, send me a PM. Reviews might spoil it for others. (Though as always, reviews are more than welcome.)

Most of you are probably not happy with some turn of events. I know many of you tuned in to see a perpetual motion machine of Hans' torture, the equivalent of seeing Hans fall down an "Up" escalator. So the idea of possible romance with Johanna might not be appreciated. I still don't know how this ends, but I do know that Hans must build himself up before he's any threat to Arendelle. And Johanna is hardly a victim of Hans. Don't think Beauty and the Beast- think Bonnie and Clyde.

Evil Love anyone?

I also know that at first glance Johanna may sound like an Elsa proxy, which might piss of "Helsa" haters (btw, I hate Helsa too). But she's not. Elsa was prim, perfect, quiet, and neat because she self-tortured herself to be that way. While years of acting like that has resulted in Elsa being the "refined" sister, she has shown traits that counter that.

Johanna is not like that. Johanna is far more cold-blooded than Queen Elsa, and has OCD issues. While not afraid of dirt and grime, she cannot stand an imperfect garden or dirty Manor. Not because she's desperate to maintain an illusion of perfection (that perfect girl is gone…) or impress people, but because doing otherwise would drive HER insane. And while Elsa is intelligent and is capable of tough decisions, Johanna is as willing to do very ugly things in pursuit of her goals. If Johanna is anyone, she's a female Hans.


	6. Chapter 6- Family and Buisness

Kurzheim, the Southern Isles

August 29th, 1840

2 days until the Queen Dowager's visit

Fritz fell into formation with his new Company, having finished recruit training a few days ago. While training continued as always, he had been given much more liberty. Things didn't change too much, as there was a considerable upheaval and reorganizing in the ranks. Over half the officer corps was dismissed or resigned, meaning officers suddenly found themselves in much higher positions.

Fritz had been sent to Company A from the training company, but it wasn't long before the now-Captain Schmidt was assigned as their Company Commander. Fritz was still trying to get a read on what kind of officer Schmidt was. The fact he was still here was a good sign, of course. The only serious change was the inclusion of Lieutenants to lead the Platoons, and the First Sergeant. The First Sergeant was the senior NCO in the Company, and was the CO's right hand man in regards to discipline and training. Theirs was Oversergent Olsen. The 39 year old NCO was below average height, with grey hair and moustache. With a face scared by pox, wind and blades, he was a grizzled looking man.

Olsen had spent his entire life in the army, to the point that he was a drummer boy in Napoleon's Grande Armée. Rumor had it he survived the Russian Campaign of 1812. If that was true, he was one tough son of a bitch. While not a drill master on the level of Wulfhart, Olsen appeared to be better at demonstrating practical combat drills.

It was time for Weekly duty assignment, and everyone was crossing their fingers. One Platoon, out of the 9 in the Battalion was going to get the short straw- Manor Guard duty. The duty was bad enough as is, with NCOs and officers going off the handle for minor flaws with Kit and constant drill practice. Plus, some VIP was coming to Kurzheim so they would be under a microscope the whole time.

The Company formed, Olsen performed an about face, saluting Schmidt, quietly addressing the younger man, before Schmidt saluted in return. Olsen then stepped to the side as Schmidt stepped forward to address the men.

"Good Morning, Gentlemen." As trained, the men responded with a similar greeting. "As you know, it's time for weekly duties assignment. As it stands, 1st Platoon will perform Camp details, 2nd Platoon is to conduct training, and 3rd Platoon has been selected for Manor Guard duty."

Fritz muttered a curse. He was assigned to 3rd Platoon.

"As the Platoon handling Manor Guard, 3rd Platoon will also be the first to receive a replacement officer. Lieutenant Bondsen is to meet you at the manor for further briefing. Stay sharp, and do as you're told. Make the Company proud. Dismissed."

Fritz fell out and made his way over to begin collecting his kit for the march to the Manor. It was going to be a long week.

…

August 30th 1840,

The day before

"Still no news, my lord."

Hans groaned. While certainly worried about his Grandmother's visit, that didn't mean his plans would stop. Hans believed in the "First Hundred Days." That the first 100 days of rule where crucial in setting the tempo for the rest of his reign. To lose steam or initiative during this period would relegate his rule to mediocrity. As such, he had been working non-stop during this period.

And yet there was only so much he could do. No one was interested in seriously investing in Kurzheim possible Porcelain industry. A few had meekly contributed funds and support, but no-one really wanted to go toe-to-toe against Royal Copenhagen. No one except a man named Gregers Sendsen.

When Hans purged the Officer Corps, a number of civilian officials had gotten the message: times were changing. As such, one such official was the Magistrate for Kanton. Hans had chosen a Gregers Sendsen as a replacement, due to his background in managing mines. Shortly after arriving, Sendsen had discovered Hans' inquiries for investment, and Sendsen had offered to foot most of the bill.

Hans sighed and entered the meeting hall. Waiting for him was Sandsen, rising to greet his new Lord.

"Ah, My Lord! Pleasure to meet you!"

"Likewise, Mr. Sandsen. I hope your voyage wasn't too unpleasant?"

"It was a good as what can be expected, my Lord. Now, I hear you have a proposition for me?"

"Yes. I have recently discovered Kaolin in the clay surrounding Kanton, making the material excellent for Porcelain production. If we had a good facility set up, we could begin making Porcelain. _Good _Porcelain."

"And you only need a Partner? My Lord I would be more than pleased to be that man for you. I assume the factory would be located in Kanton?"

Hans was both ecstatic and suspicious. As Magistrate, Sandsen would be highly susceptible to corruption as both the employer and administrator of the town. Not to mention a sizeable concentration of power on Kurzheim- easily abused power. However, He wasn't dealing with a list of candidates, or even a short list. It was this shady man, or nothing. As much as Hans smelled a trap, Hans had no choice. He would make a deal with the devil. He wasn't going to be stupid however. The Facility had to be close, but there was no way he was letting it be with Kanton's jurisdiction.

He put on a diplomatic, warm smile and shook the man's hand. "I am glad to hear that you would be gracious enough to be a business partner. Unfortunately though, we had already decided to locate the factory near Forladtnr, to facilitate shipping." It was bullshit, but _he _was the lord. Sandsen couldn't really do much even if he could prove he lied. But Sandsen wasn't going to take the blow laying down, either.

"I see. In our case, a two prong approach is best. I put funds forth into the clay pits of Kanton, increasing raw material production and shipment, while you commit your funds to building the Factory and hiring workers on that end."

It was a clever idea, which offered Sandsen what he wanted. To develop the clay pit was the less risky of the two ventures: if the Porcelain factory failed, he could easily sell to the various pottery cottage industry on Kurzheim, while cutting workers and wages. And he still had control over the Porcelain plant, by controlling the materiel needed to make the goods. On the other hand, he was also giving up claim to the real money maker, the factory itself.

Hans nodded, agreeing to the plan of action, even if he was very uneasy about his new "partner." He would pay more than he had wanted, meaning a smaller plant than intended, which was unfortunate. But he was more worried about the jackal of a man he had invited to work with. He would talk to Wagner later about this. If anyone on Kurzheim needed watching, it was Sandsen.

…

Hans and Johanna had started their evening meal, and were quick to discuss a few things, namely, the last meal: lunch with Gregers Sandsen.

"You know that man is a weasel, right?"

"Sandsen? Yes, of course. Why, have you met?"

"No, but I have heard of him. Man is one of the most ruthless industrialists out there. Most would fire strikers or troublemakers. Sandsen makes them disappear."

"That is… unsettling. Know anything else?"

"Well, I know his activities eventually forced him to sell his mine and 'retire', and that despite his charm and manners, he's not exactly one you would be proud to declare a friend."

"Figures the only man who wants to do business with _me _is another monster. Any weaknesses?"

"Well, his only son is a bit of a wimp, really. We might be able to use him to get at his father, if need be."

Hans paused, amazed that the demure woman in front of him just put blackmail and possible hostage taking as a viable option. Maybe he had underestimated Johanna…

As he pondered that thought, another unusual but regular sight occurred. A woman wearing a maid's uniform came up to the table, bowing to Lady Johanna before sitting down to eat near her. Tall, with golden hair held back in a white head piece, matching her white apron and black dress. At first glance this woman would blend in with the other maids, but an attentive eye could catch differences. Her apron, while used was far whiter betraying lack of use, than most of the other maid's. Also, her dress was of better quality and material, revealing a better salary.

Hans had recognized the woman as Johanna's maid of honor from the wedding, and had figured the woman to be her Lady in waiting. When asked however, she had insisted she was just a maid, to the point of not even giving her name. This mystery ended tonight.

"So, Johanna, care to introduce your Lady-in-waiting?"

The woman paused bringing up a spoonful of soup, attempting to deflect the attention. Her green eyes shot daggers as she straightened her posture.

"My lord, I am but a maid-"

"Clearly. That's why you eat with the lady almost every night, instead of with the other staff. And why my housekeeping staff does not have you on the books. You clearly _were _a maid, as the staff knows your name, and is very loyal to you as I haven't hear as much as a peep about you, but let's not fool ourselves."

"Her name is Kristina. She's _my _personal maid, and has been since we were both children. She's a dear friend to me, and that's all you need to know."

Hans nodded, willing to take his small victory. He was puzzled over both ladies intense defensive attitude on the subject, but he was not willing to stick his hand into the badgers nest, especially before such a crucial event as tomorrow. He would let sleeping dogs lie.

…

Kristina closed and locked the door to the North Wing of the Keep behind her, as she lifted the lantern and made her way through the hallway. Of the three wings that jutted out from the central keep, the north was the smallest, with the Upstairs being the most restricted ward. Formerly the childcare wing, the wing was repurposed by Johanna into her private sanctum. While Hans was certainly allowed access, Johanna had subtlety hinted that he was a visitor there, not a resident. Kristina was the only staff allowed access, as not even Klara ventured here.

Johanna had kept and updated her childhood bedroom, while Kristina stayed in the old Nanny's room. The other rooms, once meant to be rooms for other children, had become Johanna's personal library, study, and hobby room. It was not too difficult to keep a few rooms clean, especially when the only one using them was as neat as Lady Johanna was.

Kristina entered her Lady's room, to see Johanna preparing for bed, already in her evening gown. Kristina had already prepared the room for the evening, and was only was checking one last time to ensure everything was to her mistress and friend's expectation, as well as talk in some privacy.

She turned the lock so the door would lock when the door was closed and she stepped in.

"Anything else, My Lady?"

"You can cut that out you know. I really don't care what Hans thinks of our… friendship."

"He still puts me off, Johanna. So I'm careful. Besides, he may get jealous."

"I don't care what he thinks Kristina. Not yet anyways."

She looked at Franz's portrait, pausing with sorrow.

"He was a good man, Johanna, but you need to stop _torturing_ yourself over him!"

"I don't know Kristina. I'm open to the possibility of loving Hans now, but it still feels wrong! Like I'm betraying _him…_"

"Well, Hans being a bastard aside, Franz would want you to be happy. It's been three years, it's not wrong to find another man to love. We can never replace Franz, but it's not wrong for a young, beautiful woman such as yourself to _move on._"

Johanna nodded, having avoided another crying spell thanks to the sage advice of her oldest friend. Kristina decided a change of conversation, and mood, was needed.

"Besides, to be _fair, _you haven't been completely loyal to Franz, you know. And I've been wondering if your marriage changes things. Like it did with Franz." Kristina added while smiling devilishly.

"No, Hans isn't there _yet._" Johanna smiled back, while sitting on her bed. "It's been since before I got married, hasn't it?"

"I haven't pushed things, because of concern over your marriage, my lady." Kristina gently kicked the door closed with her heel of her shoe, locking them in from the outside world. "Care for a _revisit _of the old days, before the Grandmother arrives?" Kristina closed in, gently stroking Johanna's cheek.

"I don't see any reason not to…"

With that the two women locked lips, as Kristina gently pushed Johanna onto the perfectly made bed, while undoing the bow holding her apron in place. Johanna's hand fumbled for the lamp, extinguishing the lamp, leaving the two to continue their passion in the darkness.

…

August 31st, 1840

Mere moments before the Queen Dowager's visit.

The Pier of Forladtnr was a cesspool of organized chaos. The Queen's ship was sailing into harbor as last minute changes and planning was conducted. Soldiers from 3rd platoon scrambled from place to place as the site where their formation was to be held kept changing, leading to both Oleg and the newly promoted Sergeant Major Wulfhart becoming quite agitated. Everything was about image, to the point that even Wulfhart wore the Southern Isle white rather than the Prussian blue. The Regimental musicians stood by to play the Nation Anthem, among other things.

On the civilian side, Hans and Johanna struggled to position the staff in a neat and orderly formation, as the skeleton staff still on duty rushed to finish preparations for the Queen Dowager's arrival. Hans had been up since dawn, tired and weary from days of preparing while still not neglecting his duties. He had hardly noticed that Johanna had slept in, and her slightly improved mood. Even now, a stream of staff had been bringing concerns to him.

"My lord, what sheets am I to put out-"One maid began before being cut off.

"Green, the finest sheets we have in that regard. Use mine if need be!"

Chef Hauser ran up, out of breath. He had stayed at his post in the kitchen till the last second, preparing the kitchen for today. But there was details he needed. "My Lord, anything I should know about the Queen Dowager's taste in food?"

Hans' mind raced, trying to remember dinner with his Grandmother, if she had any obvious taste for certain dishes. Nothing.

"Klara!"

The older woman appeared behind him, black book in hand. "Yes my Lord?"

"Anything on the Queen Dowager's food tastes?"

She flipped quickly to a dog eared page, bringing up her reading glasses up for a moment, before letting them drop back to her chest, held up by a string around her neck. "No seafood, tolerates vegetables, enjoys baked goods."

"Chef Hauser."

"I can make do, my lord." He bowed and turned, swearing under his breath, as most of his ingredients were seafood. However, he had spare materials, and with hard work, the Queen Dowager would eat well tonight.

Hans turned, sweating as the ship edged alongside the pier, Sailors making preparations to dock onboard. On the Pier, the staff had finally sorted themselves out, forming a neat line. The Soldiers and Band moved a last time, before waiting at parade rest. Wiping away the sweat on his brow and checking his pocket watch, he straightened his uniform and moved to his assigned spot.

The official reception party consisted of Hans, Johanna, Klara, Oleg, and Kristina. The stood neatly, in silence as the Marines aboard the ship formed up, ready to present their official party. The first was the Captain, moving to the top of the gang plank as the moment they had waited for arrived.

Footsteps sounded, preempting an older woman who despite her age, still had a well-shaped figure and tremendous grace and beauty. Wearing a Grey Dress with green gemmed and golden cased jewelry and tiara, gloved hands and good boots, she walked smoothly and briskly for any non-sailor, let alone one in her early 70's. Her once vivid red hair only had a few dull streaks left in an otherwise grey mane, still quite impressive, as was her relative lack of wrinkles. She was the talk of royal courts everywhere, on just how a woman her age still looked decades younger. Not even Hans knew.

As she approached the plank, the Captain began to announce her titles.

"Presenting the Queen Dowager, mother to our beloved Queen and Grandmother to the Crown Prince-"

The Queen Dowager, propped herself up, clutching her hands as her blue eyes cast a cold glare at her Grandson, a stare that always proceeded a stern scolding. The Military band began a drum roll that would roll into the Nation anthem, as the Honor Guard gave preparatory command for Present Arms.

"-Queen Ariel, of the Southern Isles!"

The Command of Execution was given as the soldiers presented their rifles while their officers saluted sharply, with their colors lowered in salute. The Band rolled right into the national anthem as Queen Ariel calmly and gracefully strode off the ship, as the greeting party bowed. The former Queen quickly approached her grandson, coldly starting into his eyes as he recovered.

"You've been a bad boy, Hans."

Bit of Notes-

Good news is I finally got off of having 12 hours of duty every day. Bad news is I generally have 8 hours of tower guard, every day. At least in terms of 1 week on, one week off. So sadly, stuff still takes forever to update, and will likely continue to do so. However, in the Christmas spirit, I will **TRY **to post the start the next sequel to Faith and Duty around Christmas. Key word- TRY. Even our week off is technically patrol week, which means long missions, some lasting more than a day. As always, Hans' Fate will limp along, as governing and political games are not my strong suite, but it is fun.

Elephant in the room- Johanna and Kristina. I don't know why, but the idea popped in my head and it just made sense. Maybe it's my male mind being biased, but it does. However, for those of you worried this will become smut, don't. I still intend to keep this story "classy" and next chapter will go deeper into the two woman's relationship, explaining why they are a thing.

Also I don't write sex scenes. I just don't. I'm not afraid to tell people that characters are going to, or have had sex, but that is one thing I do not feel comfortable on. I'd be tempted to "contract" it out to other writers, but that would add stupidly long amounts of time to the already crappy 2+ week update time. I'm not opposed to the idea of doing so in the future, when I have much more time on my hands and adding a week of back and forth correspondence isn't such a bad thing. Then again, if you all react negatively to the idea, I have no problems with that. Certainly makes my life easier.

Second Elephant in the Room. Yes, that's Ariel from the little Mermaid. And Yes, Melody from the Little Mermaid 2 is Hans' mother. Let that _sink _in. Ha, couldn't help it. And yes, I did refer to the Ballroom scene from the latter movie, in which the young boy offering a dance to Melody being a very young King (then Sir) Frederick. The lore has the Southern Isles be effectively Denmark, and Eric is also hinted at being from Denmark, so I decided to mix the two universes together. Some changes will be made that might upset purists, but I do try to keep true to both Frozen and The Little Mermaid.

Glossary-

Queen Dowager- A widowed Queen. In countries where a King usually rules, or the crown passed down to the next generation, a Queen that survives her husband but doesn't take the crown is not just forgotten. If the Queen was the Mother of the sitting King, she becomes the Queen Mother. In this case, after King Eric passed, the crown passed to his Daughter's husband, King Frederick. Had Elsa married before her coronation, this is what would have likely happened.


End file.
